


Plagued by Innocence

by SkyEverett



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Historical Hetalia, Historical Inaccuracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:54:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3321425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyEverett/pseuds/SkyEverett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canada had always stayed out of the way when America and England were arguing.  He refused to take a side.  But in the heart of the American Revolution, Canada has to decide: England or America?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plagued by Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if I confuse anyone in this fic. It isn't exactly historically accurate, but it's more about choosing family. Oh, and btw, Lord Kahlil is a dragon in Janet Lee Carey's book "Dragonswood." It's full of stories about dragons and the fey. It's my personal head-canon that most of England's stories are more or less based on Carey's universes.

The best part was the stories.

Canada was more or less used to the fact that England had, well, taken him from France, but in all honesty, it wasn’t terrible. He got to spend more time with his brother, now that they lived under the same roof. England’s food wasn’t…that bad, and sometimes Canada was allowed to cook up something himself. 

But England’s bedtime stories were so much more intriguing and adventurous than France’s.

France’s stories were nice, but they were very fairytale-like and almost always the same; a boy and a girl fall in love, someone/thing tries to interfere, but they all live happily ever after in the end. 

They weren’t horrible, but they got boring after a while. Canada had tried not to show it.

England wove a tapestry of colors and sounds with his stories. They resounded with battle cries when he told stories of his past crusades. They burned brightly when he recited the legends of dragons (Alfred’s favorites). They glowed faintly when he spoke of the fey folk in the enchanted wood, more commonly known as the Nether.

And Canada was entranced by the stories of the fey.

He found them so interesting, and he longed for England’s gift of Sight every time England told him and his brother. He thought that he must be part-fey, because he was invisible to most of the countries, and even England, America, and France sometimes bumped into him on accident. Every day he wandered into the forest to try and search for them, but he couldn’t See like England could, and ended up coming home sad and depressed. But then the bedtime stories came, and Canada was once again lost in the worlds England dreamed up for him and America.

\---

“Alfred!” yelled Canada, rushing up to his brother. His brother sat on a chair, polishing a rifle and holding it up to shoot. Canada jumped out of the way as a deafening boom echoed through the cabin they were in. “ALFRED!” yelled Canada, a little louder this time. Alfred looked around for a while before his eyes came to rest on his brother’s. “Mattie! I could’ve hit you! Why didn’t you say something?”

“I…I did,” replied Canada, “but you didn’t listen.”

Alfred stared at him dumbly. “You appeared out of nowhere, Mattie. I didn’t see you until just now.”

“Maybe you need glasses.”

“Yeah…maybe so. Anyway, is this quick? I’ve got a war to attend to.”

Canada started. “War…? But…but that…I thought you and England had gotten over it.”

Alfred didn’t answer. He was staring at the ground, a sign that he was lost in his own world.

“ALFRED!”

He looked up. “Oh hey, Mattie,” he said, shooting him a tired smile. “Did you just walk in?”

Canada felt tears creep into his eyes. It was the same every time he talked to Alfred now. “W-why are you warring with England?”

Alfred gave him a half-smile. “I don’t think this is the time for jokes, Mattie.”

“No! I’m serious! I know that you and England haven’t been getting along that well, but—please!—I don’t think this is the way to solve it!”

Alfred leapt up, fueled by a sudden burst of rage. “This is the only way to solve it! He can’t keep beating me down like he always does! Something has to be done, and the only way I can get through his thick European head is by declaring independence!”

Canada was horror-struck. He never could have imagined that Alfred would do this. Sure, he had been hotheaded in the past, but…aside from his tormenting brothers, he and Alfred were the only family England had. This rebellion would tear England apart. 

“Mattie, are you oka—?”

Something inside Canada broke. He did not know what came over him, but when he came to, Alfred staggered, his hand covering his—now bright red—cheek. “Wha-what the hell!” he yelled, a little more than taken aback. “Mattie—!”

“What happened to you?!” shouted Canada. “What happened to the little boy who played with his tin soldiers and followed England practically everywhere? You were so cheerful back then, and you played around with me and n-noticed me!” Canada choked back a sob as his later memories of Alfred neglecting him surfaced. He needed to get out. Out of this cabin, out of Alfred’s sight, out to somewhere where the term “family” was used in the right way.

“Matthew! Wait!”

Canada stopped, his foot halfway out of the cabin. He wanted this all to be a mistake, that as soon as Canada strode out the door it would all turn out to be a bad dream. Just a nightmare. But it was that little correction from “Mattie” to “Matthew” that told Canada Alfred was still going to go through with this. That he was serious about throwing away the family that England had worked so hard to create.

“What about the times we had together? The picnics, the sword fights, the little rocking horse we shared? And the stories! Don’t you remember the bedtime stories? I remember them clearly, every single one! You liked the dragon stories the best. I remember how your face shone when England told you about Lord Kahlil…” 

Alfred had gotten to his feet now. He was watching Canada, hearing him, but not listening.

“Just…why are you doing this to your own brother?!”

That sparked something behind Alfred’s flat look. He rose to his full height and looked Canada straight in the eyes.

“Lemme tell you something, Matthew. Those were just stories. Make-believe fairytales that England made up to help us have good dreams or whatever. You’re being stupid by thinking you can bring up a fake world whilst we’re standing in the cold, hard, real world right now. Get your head out of the clouds and start thinking on solid ground. 

“And he. Is. Not. My brother.”

“…Right then. I’ll be seeing you…” Canada went on autopilot, searching for the right words to say, but nothing he could say would match the grief and heartbreak that he was experiencing. Except for one word.

“…America.”

And he fled from the cabin, his heart torn in two.

\---

“Are fairies real?”

England looked up from his battle plans. “Matthew?”

Inside, Canada felt a small flame of warmth that England had remembered him faster than America had, but he wasn’t getting his hopes up just yet.

“Are fairies real, England?”

England was silent for a long time. He seemed to be contemplating whether or not to answer him.

“Do you want the truth, Matthew?”

Canada’s heart sank. But he nodded against his will.

“Yes. Yes, faeries are real. The fey are real. Everything I told you before bed is real.”

Canada sighed in relief and smiled. “Everything?”

“Everything.”

If Canada had spoken to England first, he would have gone straight to America and told him dragons were real. But America had changed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see the new side of his brother ever again.

“Did you speak with Amer...with Alfred?”

Canada nodded.

England tried—unsuccessfully—to roll his eyes. After a few seconds, Canada realized that England was actually shaking, his green eyes trying to focus on Canada as much as they could, but Canada knew what England was seeing.

Canada looked like America. And England was seeing America.

“I’m Canada.”

England blinked. “Yes, I know.”

Canada sighed. “England, you’ve taught me a lot, and if there’s one thing I r—”

“You’re not actually thinking about joining that stupid little…!” In a second England had gotten up and was facing Canada full-on. 

“What? Oh, n-no, of course I’m…not…”

“Mattie!”

Green and indigo optics turned to meet blue ones. America stood in the doorway, looking like he was about to apologize, but quickly turned to Canada without even acknowledging England. 

“Mattie,” he said again, “listen to me. If you want to interfere with this, join my cause. I know there are some things you don’t enjoy about England, and you finding the good in people isn’t going to work, this time around.”

Canada looked at America, then back to England. Was he really going to have to choose?

“U-um, I—”

“Don’t be a fool, America!” yelled England, forcing America to meet his gaze. “Have you only come to collect your brother? Or have you already forgotten that he had nothing to do with your declaration of independence?”

“I’m not a fool, England,” said America flatly. “Not anymore. I’m done with being your little taxpayer. And I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Matt…Mattie…” America paused, almost as if he was looking for a word that was just out of reach. “I’m talking to my brother.”

And in that moment, Canada made a decision. It was a choice Canada was going to stick with for the rest of his life, no matter how much it tore him apart, and no matter how long it took for him to forgive himself. But in that moment, he stood proud and tall; still a colony, but his own country all the same.

“My name is Matthew.”

America turned and locked eyes with Canada. America displayed shock, disbelief, betrayal, and loss in one glance, but Canada did not back down.

America’s expression hardened. Canada knew that look. Now, until the war was over, Canada was dead to him. 

“Fine.” Without another glance at the both of them, America turned on his heel and stormed out.

Immediately England’s own expression cleared of any tension and he went back to his battle plans. But Canada wasn’t fooled. He knew that England was just stalling. Sooner or later England would crack at the loss of his first colony, but he was pretending that he had everything under control.

England still lived in the world of his stories.

And Canada would stay with him.


End file.
